Midwinter Ice
by CoffeeAndSunshine
Summary: Natalya always appears cold as ice, but she can never forget those eyes...


The room was dark when Toris entered. The only light came through the window, beyond which shined the faint light still remaining in the dull grey sky, and reflecting off the icy ground like glass.  
Natalya was sitting in the corner, her small white hands folded, and her sapphire eyes downcast, in apparent reflection. _ She was always so beautiful_

"It's snowing again." she said, without looking up. Toris looked out the window to see the ashy white snow falling again from the sky.

"So it is." he replied, after considering the already snowfilled landscape.

She finally met his gaze. "Why are you here?"

"I didn't know you were in here." he said.

"You didn't answer the question." she accused, bluntly.  
Truthfully, he hadn't really meant to stumble into the room, but she would clearly not be satisfied with such an unconvincing explanation.

"I needed to clean something..."  
Natalya rose from her chair. Every step she took resounded loudly on the cold, wooden floor. Finally, she stood, poised, unreadable, and close enough to touch. "Why are you really here?" she whispered.  
He swallowed thickly. "I don't know..."  
"I see," her arms wrapped suddenly around his middle. She leaned into his face.  
Toris felt his heart stop, before starting again, and accelerating in his chest; pounding at an unnatural pace._ Why was she so close?_  
Natalya made a throaty sound, and he felt damp, hot tears on his shirt.

She tightened her arms around his, and pulled her face into his chest, sobbing, and struggling to breath.

Toris felt a wave of numb shock, followed by confusion, and terror.  
"It's okay," he began in a soothing voice, not betraying any of his fear. Although he did not understand, he found she was not so different from Raivis, who also needed someone to hold and comfort him.  
"It's okay, Miss Belarus..."  
His arms wrapped around her gently, and he rhythmically brushed his fingers over her hair. Not once did he ask for an clarification, or even say anything more than a repetitious whispered, "It's okay."

Even this occasionally fell silent, and the only sound was the wind - piercing gasps of air, stirring up the fallen snow.

He had long since accepted this duty; the obligation of a consoler  
Her words finally came, jumbled and incoherent. She struggled with them, before she eventually managed three words that punctured his heart, while looking up at him through her penetrating, wet eyes.

"I'm sorry Toris."

She plunged her knife into his back.

Toris's eyes filled with vague surprise. He felt his lungs empty, leaving a crushing weight in his chest. He couldn't breathe. Even trying to draw a single gasp was excruciating.

The knife was still in his back, and while it wasn't bleeding out copiously yet, it leaked red droplets. They bled through into the back of his torn white shirt. he could feel the area throbbing painfully.  
He tilted dangerously, back and forth on his unsteady legs, but Natalya held him firmly standing.

She looked almost regretful, behind all that apathy. She twisted the dagger out of his back, and pulled away from him, allowing him to collapse on the floor. He fell hard against the wood, and felt the blood flowing warmly onto it.

She too was gasping for air, and staring blankly at his broken form on the ground. Her eyes ventured towards the blood on the floor, at her feet, and still spreading. She hadn't thought that there would be that much blood.

It almost broke her heart, to see him like this. In fact, he had that slight, stupid smile across his otherwise pain twisted face. It was pitying, and she hated it. She hated to be pitied.

For a moment, her other side, the vicious side of her, laughed at him inwardly. She hated him. That was why she had done this, wasn't it?  
But he was so sweet, and she had almost enjoyed the helplessly cheerful conversations he had attempted to stage in the past. In fact, he had been the most gentle, kind person to her just moments ago. But she had stabbed him.

_"I thought I would enjoy his pain. So what is this?"_

She wasn't supposed to feel remorse. Remorse was a sign of weakness, and she was certainly not weak.

He was weak, lying on the floor, coughing, still smiling, or struggling to. Still loving her, despite all this.  
She wanted to turn away from the dimming light in his green eyes, filled with pain. But she could not turn away from his dying form. Her eyes were fixated, and still filled with tears, and whether they lingered from her previous hysteric, or were fresh, she could not determine.  
He was dying, slowly before her.

"_That's right_," she thought, "_I killed him..._"

The light was almost gone.

"I actually did it..." she said aloud, but too softly for him to hear.

He seemed to be trying to hold on, but his face was pale; drained.

He wouldn't last much longer.

"_You should go before someone finds you_," The harsher side cautioned.

He wheezed, and looked up woth tortured green eyes, and spoke three words which broke her heart.

"I'm s-sorry...N-natalya..."

The light in his eyes died.

How much would she have given for those words to be different. But still, she could tell he was saying the same thing, behind those three words. Behind the many, long, painful sacrifices he made for every person he held dear were three words, never spoken.

"_I love you_."

And they were even behind the choked last words now. And she knew that this last, final, beautiful sacrifice spoke those three words. And that he should give them to her, without bitterness, or anger, which he should have felt; that he should offer his heart, even when she was taking his life - this brought her, the woman of ice, to her knees in tears.

"_Murderess_," the voice accused.

Why wouldn't it shut up?

Was this guilt?

* * *

**AN: Okay, so not exactly happy, and maybe a tad too melodramatic. Oh well...**

**I hope you liked it regardless. Thank you!**

**Happy Valentine's Day!**


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